From a Distance Year 1
by Libra In Red
Summary: Megan Norbiss always knew about Harry Potter, and when he entered Hogwarts a year under her, she held a deep admiration that turns into a very strong... devotion.


Chapter 1

She was huffing as she darted around the corner, her glasses nearly falling off her too-small nose. She clutched her newly bought cauldron to her chest as if it would save her the embarrassment of having to see _him_ again. Nothing filled her with such dreadful delight then seeing him, even from a distance. Chubby cheeks flushed to a deep pink, she very cautiously peered from her hiding place to make sure her eyes were not playing tricks on her. She was right. It _was_ him.

Harry Potter. _The_ Harry Potter.

She swallowed that ever familiar lump in her throat and shrank back as he turned her way. If her cauldron had been made of anything other then iron, it would have collapsed in her arms. Perhaps the only thing keeping it from crunching in her sternum was her thick body mass. She closed her eyes and hoped that he wouldn't come any closer. After a few moments, she blinked them open and glanced down the crowded main road of Diagon Alley. He was no where to been seen. She let out a breath of relief and stepped out of the tiny nook that hid her plump frame.

Megan Norbiss clambered into the crowd, comforted by the fact that Harry Potter had disappeared into one of the many shops that lined Diagon Alley. She glanced down at the torn book and materials list for Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. She had thought that once she had passed second year, the classes would get easier and the list of materials to buy would get shorter, but it had appeared to be just the opposite of that.

She was amazed her parents were still willing to pay for it all, considering she had been nothing but a near failure her first year. Megan was never a straight-A student, even when she had been enrolled in public school. Still, she always managed to barely make it to the next grade with barely passing marks. This year, however, was going to be different, because she had a new goal. She was going to impress Harry Potter.

Her flush returned to her face again as she let out a tiny giggle and started to skip towards her and her parent's designated meeting place. The lightness in her step ended abruptly as a foot shot out from the crowd and caused her to topple over. She landed in a puddle with a painful slush, her cauldron and spell contents clattering across the cobbled ground.

Face flat in murky London alley water, Megan couldn't help but start to cry. She pushed herself up to a crouched position, her glasses still swimming in the water. She clutched for them quickly, all to familiar with the fact that they could get crushed by a bully's foot if left unattended on the ground. A sneering laughter echoed from in front of her, and she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her now dirty robes. With trembling hands, she placed her glasses back on her face to look at her assailant.

Young and pretty, with a sick sneer of torturous delight, her tripper had white-blonde hair that was slicked back against his perfect head. Her heart skipped a beat at his looks, but the viper-like laughter that echoed from the back of his throat tore through her like a knife. She started to back away from him, slipping back into the puddle in her attempt to stand. At this spectacle, the young blonde boy's laughter increased, ringing in her ears.

Megan started to cry harder, attempting to scramble to her feet. She twisted and turned away, her foot slipping again and her knee colliding with the cobbled pavement. She let out a small yelp, dropping down to her bottom and pulling her knee up to her chest. There was a clang, and her fallen cauldron hit her lower back hard. She yelped, but didn't turn around, only hunched over her knees as the crowd of witches and wizards quickly slipped away, acting as if nothing happened.

"Filthy Mudblood cow," the small boy leaned over and whispered in her ear. "Wait and see what happens to the lot of you."

"Draco." Came a firm command from somewhere behind her. She didn't look back. She didn't care. She just covered her head and prayed they would go away. Footsteps echoed and were gone. Megan just sat in the puddle crying, her robes soaking up the dirty water. As the crowd moved past her, she replayed the scene back in her head, but with the added character of Harry Potter coming to her rescue, catching her from falling, and casting a magic spell to keep that young boy from hurting her again.

_This won't happen again_, she thought to herself, _Harry Potter is going to protect me this year. Harry Potter won't let anything hurt me, because me and Harry Potter are supposed to be together._

_Harry Potter is my hero._

Megan found her parents shortly after the incident with the blonde boy. Her face was still streaked with muggy water and tears, and her glasses slightly cracked in the left frame from where she fell. A small cut dribbled blood down the front of her chin; her hose was torn at the knee. Her lower back was already starting to bruise from where the cauldron hit her. When her mother questioned about her disheveled appearance, Megan could only respond by hugging her dented cauldron and its messy contents closer to her chest and croaking out a simple lie.

"I tripped— and landed in a mud puddle." Her voice wavered, and her mother shot her father an all too familiar look.

Megan was such an easy target for bullies, they had long accepted the fact she came home with bruises from simply "falling down." Her father let out a defeated sigh and turned towards the opening of Diagon alley, leaving Megan and her mother to talk. His back to them, Megan's mother roughly grabbed her daughter's thick arm and roughly guided her forward. Megan nearly started crying again, and she kept her dust brown eyes stuck on her feet, ashamed to even glance at her mother.

"I don't believe you, Meg," Rebecca Norbiss snarled in a hushed tone towards her daughter. "You are such an awkward little klutz. Can't you do anything right? We sent you off for a half-hour, and you come back looking like _that._ Your hair looks like a maroon mop used to clean up latrine floors and you broke your glasses _again._ This is going to be the fifth time this year we have to get you new glasses!"

Megan couldn't reply, her mind was still stuck replaying the situation as she had thoroughly plotted in her memory: Harry Potter swooping in with his perfect gold wand and green eyes flaring with magic power. The little yellow-haired boy called Draco running for his life and tripping over her cauldron, falling on his perfect little nose. Harry Potter offered her a hand and drew her up to her feet, and held her close; he became her new, instant best friend and her new protector—her dreamy "memory" was cut short as her mother roughly jerked her arm again.

"Megan! Are you listening to me? Megan," Rebecca growled lightly in her daughter's ear, her voice a hissing whisper. She addressed her husband in a calmer and more serene voice, "Marshall! Dear, please slow down a bit, one would think that you didn't want to be recognized as my _husband_."

Her last words were biting, and Marshall winced noticeably at them, slowing down. His hands were hidden in his robe, most likely thumbing the flask of whiskey he kept hidden from his wife. Rebecca had never been so stern and forceful when they married, but when she found that her only daughter was destined to be a witch, their lives had become a bittersweet mixture of rewards and self-importance. His wife was happy that they had bourn a witch, becoming obsessed that her daughter would become the greatest witch. She had even planned that Megan would surpass even the great Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts. But, as Megan grew older, this dream was soon shattered under mortal realities. She carried her father's heavier body type, and excelled in very little, despite her mother's constant prodding and preening.

Marshall had grown weary of it, but his extreme dislike for conflict kept him from interfering, and his pride kept him from getting a divorce. He believed that no child should have live in a half-way between Muggle and Wizard worlds, torn between two parents like a trophy. He sighed again as they came to the wall that hid Diagon Alley from the Muggle world. Rebecca and Megan, who was sniffling under foggy glasses, came up behind him. Rebecca's booted foot tapped irritably on the cobbled stones as he touched the proper bricks in order, and the doorway opened back into London.

Rebecca pushed past him, stiff Megan in tow. A quick look at Megan's face made Marshall flinch. He wanted to reach for her and comfort her. He wanted to let her know everything was alright and it wasn't her fault. But he merely drew his gaze downward and followed them in shame.

The trip home was made without a single utterance of what had happened in Diagon Alley. Marshall was driving their old beat-up Granada, which should have been put down in the late 1990's. Rebecca sat proudly in the passenger seat, watching the scenery pass with hooded eyes. Megan sat in the center of the backseat, her own eyes studying the depth of her new, yet dented cauldron, as if it held answer to the question of all life and the universe. She sniggered a little at the thought as the number "42" played in the back of her head.

Marshall glanced at the rear view mirror at the sound, his lips curling in an endearing smile. Rebecca ignored her daughter, still fuming about her progeny's faults. With a silent sigh, the smile faded from Marshall's lips and he looked back at the road ahead He knew that the four-hour trip back to Ipswich was going to be a very long and silent trip.

Megan began to study the convex curve that the dent made on the inside of the cauldron, and hoped that she would be able to hammer it out. Her mother didn't approve of her father using any magic in the house, and it was common knowledge that underage wizards could not use any magic outside of Hogwarts. The light flickering through the trees played odd shadows inside and around the edge of the cauldron. Megan found herself drawn into the depth of the empty metal, and into the oblivion of sleep.

**_Contessa Meridian Softbreeze touched the flank to her horned Pegasus foal, her slim, delicate fingers touching the golden strands of hair that covered the animal's fine toned muscles. She pressed her soft, rouged cheek against the animal's shoulder and giggled softly. Sandy Skydancer was the unique creature's name, with a silver mane and gold hide, and great bronze wings that tapered into copper feathers. Sandy Skydancer's eyes were as blue as sapphires and her horn was two feet long and twisted, and made of the strongest diamond known to man. The horse was the only of it's kind, and was destined to protect Contessa forever._**

**_But Sandy Skydancer was a scraggly mare in comparison to Contessa. Contessa was a pureblood, orphaned when her parents died in the battle vs. "He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named." She, like Harry Potter a year after her own birth, was marked, as he was, by a scar given to her by the very same person who killed Harry Potter's parents and her own. Her scar ran along her cheek, in the shape of a small maple leaf. It was the only mar on her perfect 12 year old body, which was pale and soft, like a china doll. Her hair was made of flames, blonde at the roots and fading out to a red as deep as the setting sun. Her eyes were a startling brown (scratch that...) gold, like her horned Pegasus, and they glittered and glowed with a dim, amber light, a demonstration of her sleeping powers._**

**_Contessa's heart suddenly started to beat hard in her chest, and she turned around from where she and Sandy were standing (a cliff overlooking Hogwarts.) She gasped as the highest tower exploded in a dazzle of blue flames. Skydancer (which we shall call her from now on, because it's prettier) nickered uncomfortably, and shifted nervously on her front hooves (which were made of pure platinum.) Without a word, Contessa's golden eyes met Skydancer's sapphire eyes and they both knew what they had to do. With a single leap, Contessa leapt onto Skydancer's back and they jumped off the edge of the cliff, catching a gust of air that sent them soaring towards the disaster._**

**_Contessa could feel it burning in her chest, and she knew he was there, fighting for her, needing her beside her. Harry Potter needed her help! Her slender fingers entwined in Skydancer's mane, urging her equine companion on. She could almost hear Harry's voice calling her name… he needed her…._**

_**"Megan..!"**_

The sudden stop of the car jolted her away, along with her mother's hissing call.

"Megan! We are home. Wake up!"

Megan rubbed her eyes with a sent of grubby fingers, smearing a bit of the dirt on the inside of her glasses, and peered over at her mother. Rebecca was busy grabbing the rest of Megan's books from the trunk, and giving her daughter a very exasperated look. Megan let out a breath of air and slid out of the backseat, the cauldron still in her arms like a newborn baby. With one last glance at the sky, almost hoping to see her Skydancer, she closed the car door behind her and headed into the house. Her shoulders were hung low in defeat, and her memories were still with Harry Potter.


End file.
